


A Pirate's Song

by tamethespaghetti



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, M/M, Music is Brook's love language, Pirates being soft, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamethespaghetti/pseuds/tamethespaghetti
Summary: At Brook’s words a small smile spreads across Yorki’s lips, and the captain’s eyes have gone soft, “Pain is proof that you’re alive.”Bits and pieces from Brook's life before joining the Strawhats, centering around him and his first captain.
Relationships: Brook/Calico Yorki
Kudos: 10





	A Pirate's Song

His sword is still wet with blood when the music starts. His blade is lying on the grass beside him, the low, dying sunlight of the early evening reflecting off whatever part of the silver hilt isn’t obscured with red. 

He had at least wiped the blood off his hands before he picked up his violin and bow. 

The slow, somber tune floats through the still morning air, filling the empty space left by the end of the fight. Not thirty minutes ago was this very place had been filled with cries and screams and metal against metal, the telltale sounds of a battle well fought. But that’s over now and Brook alone is here -alive- and the early morning air is hot and heavy with the scent of iron and death.

“That’s a nice song,” a voice says, not fighting for dominance with the melancholic melody, but dancing with it. Without stilling his hands, Brook looks up at the figure approaching him, a man with golden hair and a big smile, framed by the rising sun. 

“Thank you,” Brook replies. He notices that there’s a bit of blood stuck under his fingernails, almost dry now, and bit of it has flacked off and onto the smooth finish of his violin. 

“You fight real good,” he continues, and Brook thanks him. The man isn’t wrong. If Brook wasn’t _that_ good, he wouldn’t be the one alive right now. 

And Brook is certain that he can pick up his sword fast enough if this man tries to attack him, and yet- he doesn’t get the sense that this man is a threat. It seems like he’s simply enjoying the music. The blond man has his eyes closed now and he’s swaying back and forth, as if he’s allowing the notes from Brook’s violin to move him. 

So Brook keeps playing, guiding his bow across the stings and lets the music fill the space between them. 

“Do you like music?” the man eventually asks, and Brook’s reply is easy. 

“More than anything.” 

To this the man smiles, big and wide and bright like the rising sun. 

“Ever consider becoming a pirate?” 

~*~ 

The sun scorches the deck and what little breeze comes from the sea is salty and heavy and offers no reprieve. They’ve been rowing for hours and everyone is drained and irritable and the scent of stale sweat lingers. Brook’s whole body aches and he feels exhaustion taking over his body, seeping deep down to his bones. 

Yorki appears in front of Brook, sans heavy green coat and his golden hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

“Do you take requests?” he asks. 

“You know I do Captain.” 

Yorki smiled, “Do you know Bink’s Sake?” 

He does. So his captain orders him to start, and Brook trades in his spot at the oars for his violin and bow and the crew look up to him expectantly. He glides his bow across the taut strings and a tune settles across the ship. Brook’s mouth is bone dry but he sings and his captain joins in, and after a verse the rest of the crew follows suite. They’re all hot and sweaty and sore, with mouths no doubt as dry as Brook’s but that doesn’t stop their song. 

And when the sun finally sets and a constant wind from the west fills their sales the crew is in high spirits. 

That’s the day Brook learns of his captain’s favorite song and it grew to be one of Brook’s favorites as well. 

~*~ 

The deck below him shakes as a cannonball hits home, catapulting him and a couple of his crewmates forwards and he only just manages to catch himself before he cracks his skull against the wooden floorboards. One of the most challenging parts of being a pirate was being able to fight while the floor beneath you careened back and forth with the waves or when engaged in a fight and Brook was still getting used to it. 

He steadies himself and raises his blade to meet a blow. His blade sings, sliding in a practiced ark as it slices down his enemies. Blood pours over the deck, mixing with the saltwater and painting the wood with a diluted red, but he barely notices, because he’d moving forwards, towards the next enemy pirate, and then to the next. The tempo of his movements increases as he finds his footing on the shaking ship -their shipwright is a talented man and Brook doesn’t fear for the ship’s integrity for now- 

He hears a battle cry to his right and he knows he finally found his captain among the fray. He changes his directory, long legs making quick work of the distance between them, and he’s beside his captain not a moment too soon. He stops a blade directed towards his captain’s back and then his own thin blade sinks into thick sinew and only slows down when metal meets bone. Yorki turns to him and gives him a smile before parrying another enemy’s sword and the sound of metal against metal is music to Brook’s ears. 

He’s at his captain’s back and they move together, cutting down opponent after opponent. He’s got his captain’s back and his captain has his. Their swords move in tandem, following the same rolling rhythm and the rest of the crew join in. They create music together through their weapons and now, encompassed in song, there is no way they can lose. 

It might have been that day where Brook learnt that everything in life has a melody, and every action can be a song. 

~*~ 

The moon is nearly full as it hangs low in the night sky, illuminating the calm waters that surround the hull of the Rumbar Pirates’ faithful ship. It’s odd to have such calm here in the Grand Line -and Brook is ready for the seas to change in a heartbeat, as always- but for the time being, he’s enjoying the current tranquility. He wonders, momentarily, how the waters near the entrance to the Grand Line are at this moment, and if Laboon is doing well. 

He’s taking this down time to maintain his violin. It’s cradled in this lap as he applies a special lacquer to the wood, moving the small brush against the smooth spruce and maple in well-practiced strokes. The humidity of ocean air isn’t good for the wood of his instrument, but with regular maintenance this violin has served him well on the seas for years. 

Footsteps break through the silent night and Brook isn’t surprised when his captain appeared in his field of vision moments later and takes a seat beside him. Yorki doesn’t say anything at first, just stares off into the dark sky and takes small sips from a bottle of sake, so Brook continues with his current task. 

“How’s the head?” Yorki says after a while, his voice like soft, pianissimo keystrokes on a piano that hardly disturb the tranquility of the night. 

_Cracked the bone underneath no doubt_ their ship’s doctor had said, but all things considered, Brook had been very lucky. 

“Getting better,” Brook replies and suddenly Yorki is right up in Brook’s face, filling his field of vision and Brook doesn’t try to stop him when his captain raises a hand and brushes his fingertips along the uneven line that cuts across Brook’s forehead. 

The dressing had been removed but wound is still new, stitches a dark array against Brook’s skin and the edges of the jagged line are still puffy and red. His captain’s fingertips are cool against the raw, feverish skin and as much as the coolness is a relief the pressure is just a bit too much and Brook flinches. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Yeah,” Brook replies honestly, because he doesn’t have any reason to lie to his captain. 

At Brook’s words a small smile spreads across Yorki’s lips, and the captain’s eyes have gone soft, “Pain is proof that you’re alive.” 

“Thank you,” Brook says, and he’s not certain what he’s thanking his captain for exactly, but Yorki doesn’t question it. His smile simply grows and then after a second of silence, he pulls back, once again simply sitting beside Brook, no longer right up in his face, but still close enough. Their shoulders touch and Brook goes back to lacquering his precious violin. 

Yorki starts whistling a tune and it’s nothing Brook recognizes and it takes him a moment to realize his captain is just making it up as it goes. The notes drift through the calm, quiet night, and float across the deck and overboard to where they sail across the still water. Brook starts singing along to the tune. He’s making up the lyrics as he goes and it’s not necessarily a great song, but his words are about sea kings and adventures and underwater cities made of gold with mermaids and panties. 

Partway through an especially terrible verse Yorki lets out a laugh, disrupting the melody and pretty soon Brook stops attempting to sing anymore because all he can get out is laughter. And then they’re laughing so hard that they’re barely making any noise and Brook’s cheeks hurt, and at some point in time Yorki falls over, tumbling into Brook’s lap and Brook barely has enough time to move his violin out of the way. 

He sets the violin aside and looks down at his captain. The moon’s light reflects off Yorki’s white teeth and golden hair, and the brightness of that smile rivals the moon. There’s so much life here. 

Brook leans down and he can’t stop thinking about how happy he is to be alive. 

~*~ 

Aside from making music, Brook loves making people laugh. His jokes aren’t very complex, or very thoughtful, but he likes to think they have a certain charm. And his crew must agree, to a certain extent, because they always laugh. And it’s no different tonight. 

They’ve just concluded a brutal fight, it had been a battle they shouldn’t have won and they didn’t escape unscathed. The morale is low and the ship reeks of blood and the ship’s doctor is notoriously cranky when he’s overworked, so all in all, when they sit down for a meal it’s not exactly a joyous affair. 

It’s been a long time since they’ve docked at a port and the food is bland and starting to become stale, and that only makes matters worse. Brook is relatively silent as he eats but then he catches a bit of the conversation between the navigator and the deckhand and Brook can’t stop the joke from slipping past his lips. 

It’s stupid and juvenile and he’s said it a bit too loud. The mess hall is deathly quiet for half a second before someone lets out a chuckle and that spurs Brook on. He builds off his pervious joke with a downright terrible pun and then after that he can’t stop. And the crew is in the same boat, they’re exhausted and depleted and looking for a spark and once they’ve started laughing, it’s contagious and no one can stop. 

The crew’s laughter is a song, more precious than anything Brook could create with his violin, or the ship’s piano, or with any instrument for that matter. He can pick out his captain’s laugh amongst the fray. It’s not the loudest laugh in the room, but it’s at a very specific wavelength that Brook figures he must be particularly attuned to because it strikes a certain cord in Brook’s heart and he feels lighter than he has in days. 

After the food is gone and everyone’s cheeks and ribs hurt from laughing, they go to bed. The moral on the ship may still be low, but it’s getting higher. The fresh, salty air of the Grand Line is washing away the stench of blood and the doctor is sleeping now. When they keep moving the next morning it’s not exactly a joyous affair but it’s not somber anymore. 

~*~ 

Any time Brook gets to spend alone with his captain is precious. It’s not that Brook doesn’t love the rest of the crew -he loves every single one of them- but moments like this hit a bit differently. 

Brook is seated in front of the ship’s grand piano, practicing a new piece. On their last stop at a port Brook had spotted a bookstore and managed to find a couple new collections of sheet music, full of songs that he had never played before and an uneventful evening is the perfect time to try them out. 

His captain is seated beside him on the piano’s bench, taking sips from the bottle of sake in his hand as he watches Brook’s fingers glide across the keys. 

“You’re really good at this,” Yorki remarks after they’d been at it for maybe half an hour, “I could never learn anything that quick.” 

“It’s practice, years and years of practice and love,” Brook replies. He looks down at his fingers as they move over the well-worn keys and thinks, “I could teach you.” 

Yorki shrugs, “Nah, not it’s not my thing. Plus,” he adds with a smirk that’s joking and mocking but soft around the edges, “I’ve got to keep you around for something Brook.” 

Brook laughs, a loud, sharp staccato in sharp contrast to the smooth notes that rise from the piano, but he finds that it pairs quite well together. Especially when Yorki joins in. 

When the laughter dies down Yorki shift on the piano bench so that their bodies are pressed up against each other, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. It’s not exactly sudden and the warmth radiating from his captain’s body is comfortable, but Brook’s fingers slip, and he presses the wrong key. The wrong note is barely noticeable and even if his captain noticed, he doesn’t say a thing. 

Brook looks over at his captain, who’s now resting his head against Brook’s shoulder, and he’s got his eyes closed. His hat is resting in his lap, beside the bottle of sake, and his golden hair falls into his face. 

He looks as content as Brook feels. 

“Hey Brook,” Yorki says, and Brook is already switching songs, fingers slipping into a well-worn pattern of movements, before his captain can even finish the request. They sing the words together, their voices uniting in perfect harmony- until their navigator barges in, stopping midway through a question for the captain when he sees Brook and Yorki seated together. 

And suddenly the private, quiet moment is gone, and their navigator is laughing and calling to the rest of the crew over. 

“Brook and the Captain are being sappy again!” 

Yorki is standing now, yelling at them to shut up but he’s got a smile on his face, as do the rest of the crew when they file in and now everyone is yelling and joking and laughing. Brook keeps playing because the piano mixes wonderfully with the sound of the crew, and as wonderful as being alone with his captain is, Brook can’t find it in himself to be upset that this was how the night turned out. 

They’re all so full of life. 

~*~ 

They’ve had a string of victories recently, and secured some good loot, so when they come to port on the next island of their journey the captain orders that they all take their share and enjoy themselves for a day and a night. 

“You bastards have deserved it!” Yorki yells with a smile when they dock, “Enjoy yourselves!” 

It’s deep into the night now and the air of this summer island is thick with humidity and the scent of tropical flowers. It’s a paradise of sorts here, and the bed underneath him might just be the most enjoyable experience Brook has had in months. The sheets are silk and soft, and the mattress yields to the shape of his body and follows his every move. And beside him, Yorki’s is sprawled out under the silky sheets, relaxed and smiling and content. 

The window to their room is wide open, looking out over the still lively port town and the endless ocean behind it. Somewhere nearby there’s music and the cheerful rhythm floats up thought the clear night and settles just outside of their room. 

Brook sits up and gazes out the window. Out there is everywhere they had already been and everywhere they have yet to go. Yorki sits up too and follows Brook’s gaze. They sit together, shoulder to shoulder, looking out into that immense sea, that never-ending adventure. 

“There’s so much out there for us,” Yorki says, and here, without there rest of the crew’s scrutiny he’s allowed himself to be sappy. He speaks earnestly, words soft and open, “I can’t wait to see it all.” 

Brook nods. It’s a big world out there, too big to fit it all into one lifespan, but he’s ready to see the most he can with this ship, with this crew, and with his captain. But right now, tonight, his world is small. His world is one room, with a population of only two people. 

He sings his captain’s favorite song, soft and quiet and just for them, until his captain pulls him down and interrupts his singing by tasking his mouth with something else. But Brook doesn’t complain, not at all. He traces the tattoo under his captain’s eye and in response Yorki runs a finger gently across the jagged scar on Brook’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any pain right now, but he knows he’s alive. 

The Grand Line is full of many wonderous things, and that night will forever live on as one of the most precious memories of Brook’s life. He’s so happy to be alive. 

~*~ 

He’s holding onto his captain’s hand tightly because he doesn’t know what else to do. Tears are flowing down his face and dropping onto his captain’s bed, mirroring Yorki’s own tears. Brook had already said so much, but there’s still so much to say. If this is really the last time he’s going to see his captain then- then- there has to be more. There so much left to say- so much left to- 

“Oi Brook?” Yorki says, words hoarse and brittle and Brook fights back a pitiful sob, “Can you play that song?” 

Brook blinks back more tears, “You really like that song don’t you Captain?” 

And then Brook waits, he waits for the reply that Yorki has said a thousand times before. _Damn right! This is_ _a pirate’s song_. He waits for Yorki to laugh and say it with enthusiasm, with song, with such life and a contagious upbeat energy that never failed to fire up the rest of the crew. 

But when Yorki finally speaks, and it’s in a voice so weak and small it can’t possibly be from the captain of the Rumbar Pirates. 

“I like it best when you play it.” 

Brook doesn’t have any instruments with him right now, and he’d be damned if he left his captain’s side right now. He doesn’t have the strength to let go of his captain’s hand, as cold and clammy as it is, because he knows that this may very well be the last time. 

He presses his lips to the back of his captain’s hand and then he starts to sing. His voice is quiet and strained and it’s getting near impossible to get out the words through all the tears. Yorki tries, but he can’t sing along, and that breaks Brook’s heart. This song always sounded better when someone sang it with him, the harmony of the crew, or even just his captain, was what really made this song what it was. A pirate’s song. And right now, now the words feel so damn hollow and miserable. 

_“Never-ending, ever-wandering, our funny traveling tale.”_

~*~ 

Brook plays the song again and again. For his crew and for himself. They continue across the treacherous seas of the Grand Line with Brook as their captain. He’ll never be the captain Yorki was, and he’s sure his crew all know that, but that doesn’t stop them. They push forward, laughing and singing, through what is surely to be the adventure of a lifetime. They fight, they survive, and every single thing they do as a crew is just one more beautiful note in the song of the Rumbar Pirates. 

Brook wishes that Yorki could be here to hear it. 

It’s not quite the same anymore, but it’s still a pirate’s song. 

~*~ 

It’s a pirate’s song, and he’s not much of a pirate right now. He’s a single man -although he’s hardly a man at this point- on a ghost of a ship, and his crew is still here but they can’t do much anymore except for lay still, together in their coffins that Brook had so meticulously prepared. 

He’s a shell of who he once was. He looks up at the dark skies and wonders how Laboon is doing. If he’s big and strong now, and if he’s still waiting for them to come back. He wonders if Yorki made it to the calm belt and if he’s alive. Brook is more certain now than ever that he’ll never see Yorki again, even if his captain did survive. 

He doesn’t play his captain’s favorite song anymore, and despite the jokes and gags that no one else will ever see, he can’t find it in himself to be happy that he’s still -technically- alive. 

~*~ 

Brook he doesn’t have a heart anymore, -he’s just bones!- but regardless, the emptiness inside his ribcage where that once vital organ had once lived hurts on occasion. He can feel it in his soul, a hole that had been empty for fifty whole year, but that pain, Brook welcomes it. It’s proof that he’s alive. And recently, that hole doesn’t feel quite as empty anymore. 

Like today for instance. As the Thousand Sunny glides across the waters of the Grand Line and the despite the calm waters and gentle breeze that fills the sails, this crew is as rowdy as ever. 

He gets up and joins them. They’re lively and free and their energy is contagious. Brook says some joke and they laugh, not all of them, but he does see the navigator rolls her eyes, so it’s close enough. His captain -the man who will be the Pirate King- asks Brook to play a song and he doesn’t hesitate. They all know the lyrics by now and their voices carry across the Grand Line, the perfect melody for what is sure to be a never-ending adventure of a lifetime. 

Brook smiles. 

He’s so happy to be alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm re-reading the Thriller Bark arc and out of nowhere I'm crying while reading Brook's backstory. Never have 2 chapters filled me with such need to write so I dropped everything and wrote this. I hope y'all enjoyed reading  
> (Also I know nothing about music and instruments I'm sorry I'm just a hack fraud)


End file.
